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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402005">An Evening Realisation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_Snow/pseuds/Azure_Snow'>Azure_Snow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ayla and Oskar [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dubious Consent, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Femdom, Half-Elves, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Magic, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Matriarchy, Non-Sexual Submission, Power Imbalance, Punishment, Reconciliation, Submission, no beta we die like men, really just self-indulgent character exploration</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:20:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,278</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_Snow/pseuds/Azure_Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oskar, a half-elf slave barely adjusting to the pace of his new Mistress, has yet to trust his surroundings after his tortured past. </p><p>A mistake that leaves him injured and a misstep with his Mistress may be just what he needs to see Lady Ayla's true colours.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ayla and Oskar [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Evening Realisation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="zw-paragraph">Ayla sat at her desk, quietly scribbling away with her fountain pen. Several hours had passed, but such was the necessity of her position - especially when the Empress felt the need to summon her every two minutes.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">With all her travelling, the paperwork had simply stacked up, and there was no time like the present to plough through it. She wished she could delegate, but with her cousin dealing with skirmishes at the border, it was rather impossible. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Several hours had passed when there was a quiet, yet audible, knock at her door. "May I come in, Mistress?" said a familiar, male voice. In a motion, Ayla swung the door open with her magic, leaving a tray-holding, surprised Oskar in the doorway.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Can I offer you an afternoon snack, Mistress?" he asked, gently prising the door closed with his foot. Something was ever so slightly off about his gait - uneven, tentative - but she pushed the thought of her mind as she picked up the scent of freshly baked scones and sweet, cloudberry jam. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">She wondered if it said more about her or him that he already knew cream tea was one of her favourites, despite being so green. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">She cleared a space for the tray on her desk. "You may. Thank you. I'd lost track of time," she admitted, belatedly realising she had missed lunch. "Did you make these?" </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"If I said yes, Mistress, would I be rewarded for my talents, or punished for shirking my training?" He asked with a lopsided grin. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Ayla hummed for a moment in thought, gesturing for the half-elf to kneel by her feet. "Punished either way," she said, flicking his forehead. "Because if you did make them, it would probably be offensive to serve them to your master."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Oskar blushed red, inclining his head. "Yes, Mistress. I am working hard with Miss Namys' lessons, I promise you." </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Ayla smiled, running a hand through his hair. For all the room she allowed his personality to breathe in when they were alone, Oskar was nothing if not the most obedient of slaves - even if he had barely been trained for the position she now kept him in. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">The slaves of elven nobility typically had four key specialities: cooking, cleaning, chores, and sex. It was a pity, Ayla found, that for someone so well-rounded, Oskar failed to excel at the first. Though his intellect was sharp enough to slice logs with, this fact had not translated to his ability to replicate a recipe. In a roundabout way, it was sensical; he had only ever served under large households, with enough slaves and servants for them to be assigned specific tasks. For Oskar, his schedule had exclusively involved the mundane of chores. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">That was, until his rarity had been discovered. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"I'll be finished soon," she said, more to herself than to him.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"May I stay, Mistress?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Ayla nodded, and he moved himself under her desk, lying at her feet.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">She rested a foot on his thigh. "You're rather cold," she noted, spreading the clotted cream across her scone.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"It is snowing, Mistress," he deadpanned.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"So I've noticed," she said - in truth, she hadn't had the time to look outside since the morning, but it always snowed in winter. "Training go well?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">There was a hint of hesitation before he said, "Yes, Mistress. Thank you."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">He was certainly a far cry from the skinny young thing he used to be. Compelled by the memory, Ayla cut a generously heaped piece of the scone, offering it to him beneath the desk. She felt the slow, sensual movements of his tongue across her fingertips before they disappeared.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Tease," she scolded half-heartedly, returning her attentions to her paperwork.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <span class="EOP">- </span>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"> </p><p class="zw-paragraph">Perhaps an hour later, Ayla stretched out her limbs with a satisfied sigh. "Oskar," she said, "Help me bring these papers downstairs, will you?" The letters needed to be posted by the morning. She still had <em>so much </em>left to do.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">She watched the half-elf rolling his shoulders as he stood once more. "Of course, Mistress," he replied, moving towards the stack she had gestured towards. But something was off.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Oskar's movements were lacking their typical poise and grace; as he leaned to pick the stack up, he all but winced while he bent.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Stop," Ayla cut in, scanning him from head to toe. She leaned back in her chair, amusement crossing her features. "Walk to the front of the room and back again."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Your whims are my command, Mistress," Oskar said playfully, yet unease bled into his voice. He obliged, and within seconds, he was before her once more.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Shirt - off," she said, hiding a wicked smile behind her hand. She had always planned to use him for some stress relief, but now she would have the pleasure of a different kind.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"If you'd wanted to see me shirtless, Mistress, you hardly need to ask," Oskar teased, his arms hesitating at the hem of his shirt. Ayla stood, and his expression quickly shifted into panic. His hands trembled as he folded the garment in his hands.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">It was just as Ayla had thought. "You're injured," she remarked. "And quite badly, too."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">A thick, dark red gash had been drawn in a curve from his navel to beneath the right side of his ribcage, spanning at least a hand in length. It looked like a gash that had been inflicted with the tip of a sword, yet its ruptured texture suggested there was more to it. Above all, it was fresh and angry, barely scabbed over: it must have only been a few hours old.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"When did you plan on telling me?" She asked, moving forward to inspect it. It was certainly more than a scratch, but to her relief, it didn't appear deep enough to have caused any real damage. "Answer me, Oskar. Don't think I won't punish you because of a flesh wound." </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Y-yes, Mistress. I didn't... I didn't think the information was worth bothering you with, Mistress. I expected you would notice. I didn't mean to displease you; please accept my apologies," he breathed, and she could all but hear his heart pounding in his chest.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Where's it from?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Training, Mistress. We were sparring with mock-weapons, but my opponent was using the opportunity to practice magic reinforcement. I couldn't parry in time, and she cut me. I think she panicked, because the magic surged, and my wound... It was aggravated by it. I received first-aid," he explained, his cheeks flushed red with shame.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"No healing?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"My status and... affliction gave them pause, Mistress. I'm sorry."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Ayla sighed. Ironically, she had barely finished reading such a report from her Captain; a new recruit was given temporary leave and a demotion for unauthorised magic misconduct. She'd hardly taken notice of it until now, but everything fell into place in her mind; Oskar must have been walking back from the medic's outpost before he came in, explaining the chill through his clothes.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"You're reasonably new to me, Oskar, so I'll keep this quick. On your knees," she said, contemplating how to deal with him. Her implements were too far for her to bother to get, and wielding her magic to prove a point was out of the question - she was fond of her study, after all. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"If you understand, you are to respond with 'Yes Mistress' only."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Yes, Mistress."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Good." Lifting the hem of her skirt, Ayla delivered a swift kick to the left side of his abdomen, sending him sprawling backwards across the carpet. To his credit, he made no move to prop himself upwards as she followed. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"In my household, you do not omit information from me."</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><br class="zw-br"/>"Yes, Mistress - I'm sorr-" Ayla brought a foot down onto his collarbone, pinning him to the floor.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"What was that?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Y-yes, Mistress," Oskar gasped.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"You do not omit information, especially when it comes to injuries or illnesses. You are my property; as such, injuries and damages are to be reported immediately. Do you understand?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Yes, Mistress," he said, averting his gaze in shame. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">She released the pressure on his shoulder, and began to trace the along the scar with her other foot, watching the half-elf's fragile body flinch at the friction. "When it comes to your well-being, you do not decide what information is of interest to me. You are to inform me of anything of significance."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Yes, Mistress."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"You are my property," she repeated, "I cannot take care of what is mine if I do not know what has happened to it."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Yes, Mistress."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Do you understand?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Yes, Mistr-"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">In a moment of cruelty, Ayla grinds the heel of her foot into his wound, applying more pressure by the second. Beneath her, the man all but screamed, a raw, throat-torn, pitiful noise.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"What will you not do from now on, Oskar?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Mistress- Please, stop- Have mercy, I-" he cried, his body squirming helplessly at what she knew from experience must be excruciating pain, throbbing through his body.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"<em>What will you not do</em>?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"I promise- I promise I won't hide my injuries again, I swear it-" Tears streamed down his face. Beneath her, Ayla saw droplets of red liquid, a sure sign that she had reopened the wound at its seams. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">She moved away to admire him; he really was a pretty thing, even in such a state of disarray. His coffee-brown hair had been ruffled, giving him a dishevelled, handsomely rustic appearance, and his body was already curling in on itself as some sort of belated defence mechanism. He was so sweet, and so vulnerable; Ayla almost wanted to keep him like that forever.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Good," she said. "You'll do well here if you're honest with me, Oskar. Disinfect your wound and return to your room; you're to isolate yourself until I call upon you again."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">This time, the response is quick. "Yes, Mistress."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <span class="EOP">-</span>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Oskar lay on his bed, exhausted and miserable. He hated being a burden more than anything, yet it was all he had been since morning; at practice, his miscalculations had forced the medical assistant to waste her time with him, despite his status. In the back of his mind, he knew that were it not for his ability, he would have died. Then, knowing his Mistress' packed schedule, he'd only served to suck valuable time from her day. And now, forced into solitary confinement, he had burdened his fellow slaves with bringing a meal to his door. The throbbing pain in his abdomen had yet to subside, too, like the lingering scent of smoke on one's clothes. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Suddenly, the door to his room flew open. Oskar jumped at the noise, then immediately regretted it with the subsequent spike of pain. "Oskar? Ah, sorry," the sheepish voice of a servant says. "The Mistress wants to see you in her bedchambers."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Oskar sobered quickly. He imagined she wanted a second round of her punishment, it having been cut short by her schedule - he'd had much worse for less, after all. In fact, as his nightmares sometimes remind him, he'd had worse simply for existing as he was - he still wasn't sure if he was grateful, or horrified, that his Mistress seemed to have no interest in his rarity.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Still, it was too soon for him to make a true assessment of his Mistress' character. It had been only two months, and the little information he had was conflicting. He tried to push such thoughts from his mind as he rushed to the opposite wing of the estate - they were never productive, since a slave is always stuck stuck with his owner - and instead, focused on quelling the tangle of nerves in his stomach.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Mistress, it's Oskar. May I come in?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Before his eyes, the door opens itself; he still isn't used to it.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">His Mistress was sitting on the edge of her bed, organising her jewellery in an ornate, pearl box. Her hip-length, ebony black hair has been relieved of its braid, though she has yet to change out of her courtly navy dress from earlier in the day.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">His Mistress offered him a gentle smile; he imagined it was the way a hunter would smile at a rabbit caught in its trap. "Yes, do make yourself comfortable. We'll be moving soon, anyway - how are you feeling?" </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Because Oskar was smart enough to recognise that, "Like someone kicked me across a room and reopened my wounds" was not a remotely acceptable answer, he simply replied, "Reasonably well, Mistress. Thank you."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Sore?"</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><br class="zw-br"/><br class="zw-br"/>He hesitated. "A little." Oskar felt his body lighten with adrenaline with the idea that it would soon worsen; he knew his earlier punishment was far too light for him to get away with.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Well, let's see if I can do something about that. Follow me," his Mistress said, placing the box on the side-table and walking through a pair of cream double-doors.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Oskar had never entered before, but he knew it to lead towards his Mistress' private bathroom. He rushed to follow her, and was shocked at its exuberance; stretching across two floors, the bathroom could only be described as excessively lavish. Decorated with marble-tiled floors and stone statues, it was all Oskar could do but stop and stare. The balcony that the bedroom doors led onto was a relatively small space in and of itself; it primarily served as an area for hosting exotic plants, long mirrors, and small seats - presumably each to contribute to some sort of beauty ritual - but it had the perfect view of the space below them. Filled with steaming water in the middle of the room was a large bathtub - practically a small pool - set into the floor. Its water was a pure, cloudy white, with the pale pink petals of some sort of flower floating on its surface. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Well?" His Mistress asked, and he realised she had already reached the bottom of the arching staircase. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>She's going to drown me</em>, he thought. <em>They haven't done that to me since I was a child.</em></p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"You're usually quick on the uptake, Oskar. Why are your clothes still on?" </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Oskar's mind was reeling. "P-pardon, Mistress?" Before he knew it, she had already stripped herself down and was dipping her legs into the steaming water.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Don't make me say it twice," she said, easing herself in.</p><p class="zw-paragraph"> </p><p class="zw-paragraph"><em>Clothes would get in the way when she drags you out to beat you</em>, his mind supplied.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Of course," he stuttered, folding his clothes neatly at the side of the bath. "Will I be serving you?" He asked, feeling entirely underqualified for such an experience. His entire life had consisted of cold buckets of water to shower with - a far cry from the bathing experience of a noblewoman.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Yet, as soon as he stepped into the water, he could feel some sort of energy coursing through him.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Quite the opposite. This water is purified with magic; it's rich in restorative properties. Not that it makes a difference for you..." She added, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes. "But it does help <em>me</em> with this."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Oskar looked at her quizzically, settling himself a comfortable distance away from his Mistress - close enough to serve her quickly, but not so close as to intrude. The bath seemed to have a sort of built-in seat spanning its edges; he had never heard of such a thing before, but it was pleasant to be so comfortably submerged. He wondered how long it would last.</p><p class="zw-paragraph"> </p><p class="zw-paragraph">His Mistress looked unimpressed. "You'll need to come closer if I'm to heal you," she deadpanned. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">The half-elf felt as though his brain had been turned into slush. "<em>T-that's</em> why you brought me here?" </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"I'm hardly going to leave you wounded, am I? I don't specialise in healing magic. I heal myself in battles, and that's the extent of it. Healing other people is very different," she said, "And healing you is a pain. Now, come here."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Dazed, Oskar obliged. His Mistress cupped his cheeks with his hands, moving herself on top of him. He felt his back being pressed against a wall - one of the pillars framing the bath - and leaned into her touch. Then, she was kissing him - slowly, sensually - as he felt a tingling sensation coursing through his body; not exactly painful, but unpleasant. He moaned beneath her, attempting to indicate his discomfort, but to no avail - his Mistress only deepened their kiss, her tongue invading his mouth. Oskar felt his body sag against the wall, and then, it was gone.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">He took a moment to catch his breath as his Mistress sighed dramatically. "You and your quirks. Your body nearly rejected my mana. If you were <em>normal</em>, it would have been a <em>very </em>pleasant experience for you," she said, running the tip of her finger along the tip of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Oskar's hand went to his abdomen, with his muscle memory expecting the rough, jagged edges of the scab. The skin was smooth, flawless; the pain was gone.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"M-mistress," he said. "I can't thank you enough - really. I don't know what to say, you didn't have to do this for me-"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Oh, hush," she said dismissively. "It was little trouble. Even if your body is resistant to magic and requires a few extra steps to heal properly, then that's just a trade off of possessing a rare asset." </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Oskar couldn't help it - for whatever reason, he teared up. There was such an intense well of emotions rising within him, it was overwhelming: confusion, gratitude, shame, relief, happiness. He felt <em>valued</em>, and that meant more to him than he thought it could. He had been healed before for aesthetic purposes, but the sensation and results were so different to his Mistress' favour; the tenderness her magic had conveyed could not lie.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Please, Mistress," he said. "How can I please you? Let me service you-"</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Stop," she said evenly, and she moved to press a kiss to his forehead. "You've had enough stress for one day, and I'm quite exhausted. Besides, you don't owe me anything in particular for this; you're my slave, and I look after what's mine." His Mistress moved to leave, and Oskar hurried to offer her a towel. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">"Though, if you're really eager," she conceded, "My shoulders <em>could </em>use a massage before bed."</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  <span class="EOP">-</span>
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Back in his room, Oskar could have convinced himself it was a dream. But the sensation of his Mistress' strong, powerful body beneath his hands tied him to its reality, and every few moments, his hand would trace where his scar had been.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">They had said his Mistress was the monster of the North; the Empress' bloodied right-hand, even more ruthless than her mother who had crushed the five tribes opposing the Empire many, many decades ago. She was the strongest head her household had had in six generations; she was dangerous. Yet while the rumours did justice to her raw authority, they painted a wholly inadequate picture of his owner.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">He had seen her mercilessness, yet he also knew she was kind. The sort of owner who cared - in whatever twisted capacity it was - for her pets, who protected them from outside abuse. The kind of owner who would waste her time healing his injury, when the only owners he had ever known would have given him three more for his incompetence, and then strap him to a post until he'd healed.</p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p class="zw-paragraph">Yes, there was <em>something </em>different here. Oskar couldn't quite trust it yet, and he had yet to rationalise it, but for the first time in his life, he had a Mistress he almost wanted to serve. </p><p class="zw-paragraph">
  
</p><p>As terrifying as it was, he had found someone to devote himself to. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! </p><p>I hope you enjoyed this one-shot; it's a little slower than my last, but I wanted to provide a glimpse into the early developments in Ayla and Oskar's relationship, as well as add some worldbuilding that can be used for plot-points and ideas later down the line, if I choose to continue the series. If that happens, the next one-shot will hopefully be a little more action-packed, taken from when they've really gotten to know each other and established their dynamic.</p><p>As always, comments, feedback, and ideas are all greatly appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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